Authors: Meg Gray
“Well, it’s perfect. Thank
you.” She took another drink. He’d first thought about asking Maricella for
chocolate dipped strawberries and champagne. But this was better. It took the
romantic edge off the evening. It was fun and he needed to have more fun.
Whatever happened that night
in the kitchen to push Emma away from him he wanted to bring her back. He
didn’t know what it was exactly that had frightened her, but he was going to follow
her lead, take it as fast or slow as she wanted. Everything about her told him
she was worth the time.
The sky was brushed in pink
now and the thin clouds skirted gently across the horizon, their beauty
reflected in the water below. Marcus tried hard to keep his eyes on the horizon
and off Emma.
They sat quietly watching
the colors fade in the night sky and finally when the first star appeared
Marcus reluctantly put away the mugs. Emma shuddered from the cool air, went
back to her seat in the front of the boat, and pulled on her sweater. He
latched the basket and followed her. Back in his seat, he turned the key in the
ignition. The boat pushed through the water again and Marcus eased it next to
the dock before tying it off. He lifted the basket to the dock and stepped out
reaching back to help Emma.
“The sunset was really
beautiful tonight, thank you for taking me out.” She hugged herself against the
coolness in the air and Marcus longed to put his arm around her—but he didn’t.
“You’re welcome,” he said as
he picked up the basket and walked beside her. “I appreciated the company.” He
wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her how he felt and how she looked so
beautiful, but he held back. They were almost to the door. He knew when she
turned that she was going to say goodnight and slip inside. So, he spoke first.
“My parents will be arriving
home tomorrow,” he started.
“Oh, that’s right.”
“They won’t get in until
late, but there’ll be a welcome back dinner for them on Saturday night. My
uncle and cousin, their wives and my grandfather will be coming. It’s kind of a
formal thing. That’s the way my parents like to do it. Anyway, I’d really like
it if you would join us. As my guest, that is.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Okay,” she said again and
then smiled, melting his heart. “Thanks again for the boat ride. I had fun.”
He took a step toward her.
“Me too.” When she didn’t back away he reached for her hand and leaned in to
kiss her on the cheek. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she replied slowly
taking a step backward. She was smiling at him and he wanted to pull her back,
but he didn’t. He dropped her hand, letting her go, and watched her walk back to
the house. He stood there beneath the blanket of stars hoping this was the
beginning of something special.
Brayden sat next to Emma
drawing a welcome home picture for his grandparents. Emma scanned her assessment
book and marveled at the progress Brayden had made over the summer. He was
easily performing at grade level. She had relayed this information along with a
glowing recommendation of Brayden to Portland Private Academy and Portland
Christian Academy. Marcus was hopeful her letter would help sway the board to
reconsider Brayden for enrollment.
While she stood behind every
word she wrote on Brayden’s behalf, she still had concerns about his placement
for next year. Brayden had made excellent progress. The summer was a breeze,
because he already knew and trusted Emma, and working in his grandparents’ home
provided a relaxed atmosphere. Working together one on one, Emma was able to
adapt all of his learning. These circumstances helped Brayden to succeed and
she hoped it was enough to help him cope with the demands of first grade.
For the first time in her
professional career, she had deep concerns about the next year for one of her
students. Usually, she bid her students farewell on the last day of school
knowing she’d given the best of herself to them and wished them well as they
moved on.
It was different with
Brayden. She was invested in him. He held a special place in her heart that not
many other children, except her nieces, occupied.
He’ll be fine
, she tried to console herself, but she also thought she should
talk to Marcus about her concerns. They could talk about some ways to be
proactive in preparing Brayden for first grade and try to mitigate some
potential problems. He would listen to her, she knew he would. It was something
she never would have dreamed possible after that night in November when she
presented him with Brayden’s first progress report. She felt bad about her
first negative impression of him. He was all the things she’d first observed:
strong, controlled, formidable and commanding, but also caring, compassionate,
vulnerable and fun. She smiled at the memory of last night sitting together on
the boat drinking root beer floats and eating cookies. It had been a perfect
evening and she was trying to open herself up to the possibility of more
perfect evenings with him.
“Do you like it?” Brayden
asked, holding up a drawing of a brown house with green grass, a tree, flowers
and a sea of water behind it. Across the top, he’d written in black crayon,
“WLKM HOM” and at the bottom of the page below the green grass read, “I LOVE
YOU. BRAYDEN”.
“It’s wonderful,” she said.
“I’ll hang on to it and you can give it to your grandparents tomorrow at
breakfast, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed and Emma
tucked the page inside her books.
The next morning, with the
picture in hand, Emma met Brayden and Luke in the foyer. She noticed how
Brayden had been scrubbed clean and wore slacks and a polo shirt instead of his
rumpled pajamas. Luke, too, looked freshly showered and clean-shaven. His black
shorts were pressed with a crisp seam, a polo shirt and tennis shoes finished
his ensemble.
“You ready for this?” Luke
whispered to her as they approached the dining room. Emma passed Brayden the
paper she’d carried and they all entered the room at the same time.
“Thank heavens, we can begin
now. Maricella serve the breakfast,” a woman with short red-tinged hair said.
The bracelets on her arms jangled when she waved them in the air giving out the
order. Without even a hello or good morning Brayden and Luke marched around the
table to the other side and took their chairs. Marcus, demoted from the head of
the table, stood and pulled the empty chair next to him out for Emma.
“Mother, Father,” he said. “This
is Brayden’s kindergarten teacher, Emma Hewitt, who has been staying with us
and working with him while I’m at work.”
The senior Mr. Lewis looked
at her from his end of the table but said nothing and Mrs. Lewis gave her a
very curt nod before turning her attention to Luke.
“Don’t you have a kiss for
your mother?” she demanded, leaning toward him.
“Yes, mother,” he said and
stood to place a kiss on her cheek, just like a puppy obeying his master’s
command. “It’s good to have you back, mother dear.” The mood around the table
was a far cry from where it was the day before. Yesterday, Luke was teaching
Brayden how to blow bubbles through the straw of his chocolate milk to create a
foam topping. The two were in a competition to see whose bubbles could grow the
tallest without spilling over the side. This morning, however, Emma almost felt
afraid to breathe. The formality of the atmosphere was so thick.
“Hello Brayden,” Mrs. Lewis
said next, addressing her grandson. “I hope you’ve been a good boy.” She spread
her napkin over her lap never looking at Brayden.
Maricella appeared with a
large tray laden with plates of Belgian waffles and fresh fruit. She served
Mrs. Lewis first and then moved deftly around the table, her starched apron
swishing as she stepped in and served each plate. She moved in a random order,
next serving the senior Mr. Lewis, then Marcus, Luke, Brayden and finally Emma.
Before, Maricella turned to
go, Marcus stopped her.
“Maricella, Ms. Hewitt will
be served with the ladies from now on, please.” The housekeeper nodded and Emma
caught Mrs. Lewis giving her son an incredulous look. Marcus either ignored it
or didn’t see it. The remainder of the meal was filled with Mrs. Lewis’s
vibrant recounts of their time away in London, France, Spain and Italy. Her
dialog was directed toward her sons, who listened with the practiced appearance
of attention.
After the dishes were
cleared and the coffee cups refilled Emma caught Brayden’s eye and nodded
toward his grandfather next to him, reminding him to present his picture to his
grandparents.
“Grandfather, I made this
for you and Grandmother,” Brayden said, holding out his drawing.
His grandfather took it from
him, adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and scanned the picture.
“That’s very nice,” he said,
handing it back to Brayden. “Now take it on over to your grandmother.”
Brayden slid cautiously from
his chair and walked to his grandmother, handing the paper over gently.
“Let’s see it, darling,” she
said, snatching it from his hands. “Oh, yes, very nice,” she said and Emma
smiled at Brayden as he returned to his seat. “I see we still need to work on
your spelling, though.”
Brayden’s brow furrowed.
“Actually,” Emma said,
feeling an incredible need to defend and protect this little boy from his
grandmother’s ridicule. “Brayden’s spelling is very appropriate for his age and
he has worked incredibly hard this summer.”
Mrs. Lewis squared her eyes
on Emma. “I see. You mean, appropriate for public education. You teach at one
of those public schools, don’t you? My boys were writing full-page stories by
the time they were Brayden’s age with correct spelling and punctuation. He can
do better.” The woman looked away.
Emma was about to snap at
the woman when she felt Marcus’s hand on her knee. His touch startled and mellowed
her at the same time.
“I didn’t know you made
something for your grandparents, Brayden. That was very nice of you. Mother,
may I see it please.” His voice was so warm and gentle. His mother passed him
the paper and Emma watched him study it.
“Wow, Bray,” he said. “I can
tell you worked very hard on this. It looks wonderful. Would you like to show
this to Uncle Luke?”
Brayden nodded and passed
the paper to his uncle. “Geez, boy you can draw,” Luke praised him. “Nice job
on the trees and the water. How come you’ve never drawn me anything before? I
want one too.”
Brayden beamed at his uncle.
Emma’s heart swelled that Marcus and Luke had taken the time to build up
Brayden’s self-esteem. They got it—the boy needed affirmation, not criticism.
“Well, boys let’s get a move
on. We have a tennis match at the club in less than one hour with your Uncle
Bill,” Mr. Lewis said, placing his hands on the wooden arms of his chair.
“Tennis, today Dad? But you
just got back. Don’t you want to use the day to relax?” Luke asked hopefully.
“Not at all. I know your
Uncle Bill thinks he has the advantage with my jet lag, but I’ll show him,” the
man said, shaking his wrinkled finger in the air.
“Mother, would you be able
to watch after Brayden while we’re gone?” Marcus asked.
“Absolutely not,” the woman
said put off. “I have a party to get ready for and this house is in a
disgraceful state. I’ll be lucky if I can pull this whole thing off.”
“Well then, Dad, I’ll have
to sit this one out,” Marcus told his father.
“You most certainly will
not,” his mother piped up from her end of the table again. “You can’t play
tennis with three people.”
“I can stay home too,” Luke
chimed in.
“Don’t be ridiculous you
two. Besides, I need my children there in case your father decides to have
another heart attack on the court. Miss Hewey, was it?” she asked barely
glancing at Emma. “She’ll stay with the boy. That’s what she’s here for, isn’t
it?” The question was directed at Marcus.
Before Marcus could reply
Emma jumped in, “I’d love to hang out with Brayden this morning. Is that okay
with you?” Brayden looked across the table, relief sweeping over him and
nodded.
“Are you sure? It’s your
day…” Marcus was saying to her quietly.
“Of course,” she said back
just above a whisper. “I’m happy to do it.”
“Well, now that that’s settled.
I have work to do,” Mrs. Lewis said, jangling her bracelets as she got up from
the table. Everyone else dispersed quickly. The senior Mr. Lewis had his hands
on the backs of his sons practically pushing them out the door. Emma and
Brayden retreated to the game room upstairs and went a few rounds at Ping-Pong.
The ear piercing screeches
of “MARICELLA,” from Mrs. Lewis downstairs sent quivers down Emma’s spine. Brayden’s
eyes constantly flashed in the direction of the door waiting for his
grandmother’s approach. The volatility of the house was uncomfortable, so Emma
suggested they head outside.
Down the stairs they stepped,
with extreme caution, pausing at the bottom and looking for signs of the
fire-breathing dragon. When there was no sound, they scurried across the
hardwood floor like mice. A pale-faced and frazzled looking Maricella polished
the silver in the dining room.
Emma gave the woman a
sympathetic smile and then shooed Brayden out the door when another,
“MARICELLA,” came roaring from somewhere inside.
They took refuge in the
combined tennis and basketball court. Brayden rode his bicycle around until he
became bored and then he and Emma played a little basketball. Brayden lost
interest in the game and Emma sat on the sideline watching him as he investigated
the rocks that encircled the court. A new crack just beyond center court had
appeared after the earthquake, leaving behind a reminder of its wrath.
“There you two are,” Marcus
called, walking across the lawn with Luke trailing behind him. Brayden stood up
and waved before returning to his rock hunt and Luke went to join him. Marcus
sat next to Emma.
“How long have you guys been
out here?” he asked.
“Most of the morning,” she
replied. “It felt a little safer.”
“Probably a good idea. How’s
Brayden holding up?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good,” he said,
resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “As you
probably noticed he and my parents aren’t very close. And I apologize for my
mother this morning.”
“Apologize for what?”
“She can be a little set in
her ways and I apologize she didn’t receive you more warmly.” He tilted his
head toward her, “To my mother you’re the hired help.”
“Oh, well that makes sense,
because I am. Right?” Emma said, lifting her chin and steadying her gaze across
the court on Brayden and Luke.
“That’s not how I think of
you,” Marcus said. Emma could feel his eyes watching her. His voice was soft
and almost questioning.
“You mean you aren’t going
to pay me after all,” she mocked and looked at him glad to see the grin that
spread across his face matched her own. Marcus grabbed her hand and pressed it
to his lips. The softness of his lips meeting her skin delighted her more than
she’d been prepared for.
“Hey Dad,” Brayden yelled,
interrupting them and Marcus dropped her hand. “You wanna play some basketball?
You and me, against Uncle Luke and Ms. Hewitt.”
“What d’ya say?” Marcus
asked standing up and offered her his hand. “You up for a little two-on-two.”
She reached up, accepted his hand, and let him hold it all the way out to
center court, where they turned to face each other on opposite teams.
* * *
Lunch was served on the
patio at a large round table. Brayden sat between Marcus and Emma, happily eating
his turkey sandwich. The conversation orbited around the tennis match earlier
in the day. Marcus’s game winning overhead slam to seal the fate of the game
was relayed by his father and brother who then broke down in laughter as they
recounted how Uncle Bill fell face first on the court trying to return the
shot.